Homebound
by ReverseSceptile
Summary: No one said saving all of Tamriel was an easy job. Such is the life of the Dragonborn, Slayer of Dragon. Sadly, no one told him that having a family was even more of an adventure than he thought. It also doesn't help that a certain Red Dragon decides to crash into his life as well, and is anyone else suspicious of the Thalmor's plans? Well, good luck there Dovahkiin.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Oh boy, a story not about ponies, pokemon, or any of the likes. What an invigorating experience. Course, that's what happens when one plays a single game for so long and gets hooked so easily.

For those wondering if I'll ever get back to my other stories(not that'd there be many anyways), the answer to that is a simple 'maybe'. Don't know yet. You know how it is. School. Work. Death. The whole works.

Now enjoy!

Disclaimer:...come on Bethesda, as if I could come up with a Lore like this.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 1: The Return<span>**

Rorrn Islarp inwardly scowled himself for his terrible decision as the great dragon roared overhead.

Looking back, the Nordic messenger should have realized today would end up like any other day.

Even from a young age, it seemed he had been cursed by the Nine Divines themselves to remain a very unlucky man. Gifted with clumsiness, a terrible sword-arm, and not to mention his complete incompetence at the discipline of magic; some would say Rorrn was lucky to even live. Lucky for him though, being a messenger of the Whiterun Hold didn't really need any of these skills. While he wasn't the most attractive Nord, standing a few feet shorter than your average belly aching Nord with no form of facial hair except his mildly cut black hair hidden behind a messengers cap. Of course, no one said messengers had to be too attractive, and so far the job had been fairly easy and simple

Unless you counted the occasional chase after delivering an angry letter to an unsuspecting Nord.

Life seemed to be looking up for the skinny messenger now that he had a job to keep him afloat. While he wasn't rich, the job did bring in a steady flow of gold and the occasional tip provided by the client. Such as today was supposed to go. A simple task. All Rorrn needed to do was go to Riverwood, find a man, and give the letter. No questions or complaints. Simple and easy.

Curse his luck that he should enter the town /right/ as a dragon decides to mess with the local townspeople.

_**"FUS!"**_ the dragon shouted from above, the powerful Thu' um materializing before slamming into a nearby guard tower.

Luckily one that Rorrn was using to hide.

The man gave a yelp of surprise as the shout slammed into the stone building, ripping him from his thoughts and easily crumpling the stone structure as if made of paper. Rorrn himself had been hiding near the stairwell to get into it, which gave way beneath him as the gate-like tower fell atop him. Lucky for him, the shout from the beast seemed to have forced the debris to spread out rather than land atop the poor Nord, though that didn't make things easier on his back as it landed atop the pile of splinter wood and broken stone.

His mind swam with pain and disorientation, attempting but failing to get his thoughts together. The ringing in his ears from the power of the dragons shout wasn't helping either. Rorrn's vision being the first thing to come back, he gazed upon the small town of Riverwood and the chaos that was ensuing.

Patches of blue fuzz seemed to sharpen until he saw they were the local Riverwood guards, trying desperately to being order to the town unaccustomed to dragon attacks. While some where ensuring the safety of the townspeople along with the local blacksmith, herding them into their home for safety(which of course was useless), many others(7 if Rorrn was seeing correctly) were trying to get the dragons attention and coax the beast away from the town.

_"Simple plan for simple minded Nords,"_ Rorrn groggily thought as his mind began to finally form coherent thoughts. He attempted to move and get up from atop the pile of stone and wood, and was met with a sharp pain in his leg. Grunting through the excess use of force, Rorrn inwardly cursed himself as he forced himself up despite the pain and noticed the blood spilling from his calf where a splinter of wood had to_ luckily_ decided to pierce. It wasn't fatal, thank the Divines, but it was in deep and would probably need medical attention as soon as possible.

If he made it out of the situation alive that was.

Another roar tore through the air, prompting Rorrn to scramble and make his way away from the town immediately. He couldn't see the gods damned dragon, but if his hearing was anything to go off of, then it was still circling the town and spouting balls of fire upon the town. All he needed to do was get on the main road, find his was to Whiterun, and somehow get this piece of wood out and-

Something suddenly crashed directly behind Rorrn.

He remained stock still, not moving an inch for fear of what lurked behind him. Fearful sweat broke from his brow as he came to a realization. There was no more roaring, no more screaming, no more flames.

Everything seemed to have gone deathly silent.

A rush of hot, damp air blew from behind and past Rorrn, something sounding like a low rumble could be heard behind him. Rorrn could only pray to Akatosh and all the Divines as he slowly turned that what was behind him was not a-

Dragon

Cold, primal fear gripped the man as he lost all sense of thought and movement. The bronze reptilian beast simply gazed onto him, its dull green eyes looking at him with what appeared to be disgust and amusement. Everything within Rorrn told him to run, do what he was best at. He was always good at running, yet none of his limbs would move as he told them to. Added that his leg was still bleeding, and he probably wouldn't be able to run far anyways. Rorrn remained still for what seemed like hours as the beast waited for something, perhaps thinking it would find a fight in this twig of a man, Unfortunately, it did not, and grew bored far too quickly for Rorrn as it drew itself to its full height in preparation.

He was going to be eaten.

He knew it was only a matter of time.

Just his luck.

**"FUS! RO! DAH!"**

It all happened to quickly for Rorrn to comprehend, for where there once was a dangerous, colossal dragon ready to eat him, now there was nothing. His mind working to see had happened, Rorrn slowly turned his head to the right to see the beast roaring in anger as it wfas slowly rising from landing spot. If Rorrn didn't know any better, he'd say that something or some/one/ had just sent the dragon away using only their voice.

That's what prompted Rorrn to turn his head to the left.

At first glance, the figure standing there was nothing special. Ebony armor fully surrounded who ever was in there, though he could tell it had seen better days. Chips were numerous in the armor, and if he looked closely, Rorrn could see part of the right shoulder guard missing. What should have been a shining set of armor was dulled now to a pale gray and black. Yes, there was nothing spectacular about the figure that stood before him in terms of armor.

That was, until he saw the bronze mask that hid the figures face. What should have been a helmet of Ebony, was instead an ancient looking mask with slits for eyes, and a hood shrouding the back of the head downwards. No, there was only one being Rorrn knew through recent tales and songs that wore dull ebony armor and a mask of ancient's long forgotten.

The Dragonborn.

Rorrn was broken from his stupor as another roar, this one louder and more challenging, was bellowed from the dragon at the sight of the Dragonborn. If Rorrn didn't know any better, he could swear by the Divines that the dragon seemed almost fearful of the armored man than angry.

"I need to ask you to get away as quickly as possible." A rather calm voice sounded from his left, making Rorrn turn back to the Dragonborn, mesmerized by the fact that he was talking to /him/ of all people.

Just his luck.

Rorrn didn't know how long he stood there as he simply took in the presence of the Hero of Skyrim, feeling like nothing in the world could hurt him with him here. It was only after the Dragonborn's mask turned quickly to face the charging Dragon did Rorrn decide it was time to move. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Rorrn dove back towards the rubble of the guard post, scurrying around it so as to stay far away but still close enough to see. He noticed that it still remained quiet, as it seemed he wasn't the only one admiring the presence of the Dragonborn. Guards and townsfolk alike were simply gawking as the figure stood stock still while the raging Dragon charged towards him, it's eyes filled with bloody rage and hatred born from years of waiting to slay mortals. It's jaw open, it's head lunged forward with power enough to snap a tree in half.

Nothing the Dragonborn wasn't accustomed to.

With speeds that defied the armor he was wearing, the Dragonborn deftly sidestepped with calculated precision. The dragons jaw snapped at open air, it's' eyes widening with both confusion and fear at the close proximity to the Dragonborn. What was even more daunting was the weapon that the man pulled quickly from his back, one many had seen before their deaths and one that gave even the dragon chills down its scales.

A Dragonebone Axe.

Reeling back as quickly as possible, the dragon gave a menacing growl of pure anger at the audacity of the weapon made of its kind's very bone and scale. Seeing red, the dragon swept around and bringing its tail out, swung hard down upon the Dragonborn. It expected to hear the sound of crunching bones and a cry of beautiful pain from the disrespecting Dovahkiin.

It never came.

Instead the Dovah felt surprising weight upon its tail before the weight shifted quickly and landed on its lower back. Fear overtook all it's instincts as it knew exactly what was happening, opting to force the Dovahkiin off by fearfully bucking and twisting around. Another roar and jet of flames was let loose as it shook this way and that, before the weight suddenly left its back. The dragon inwardly thanked Akatosh that it succeeded in throwing the dragon slayer off, readying itself to use its Thu'um on the staggering foe so as to-

"You fall." we're the last words spoken before the dragon suddenly felt as if his body was /gone/. His mind had only seconds to process what had happened as the world slowly twisted upside down with his head landing on the ground. No anger. No victory. Only pure and utter defeat from the Dovahkiin himself. Years of waiting for the right moment, a millennia of stalking the mortals till the time was right; all wasted in a couple seconds of a fight. Darkness overtook the Dovah as he began to leave this world, wishing that the last thing he saw wasn't the burning disappointment and loath in the Dovahkiin's eyes.

* * *

><p>Chalur Dralfran, despite what many thought, was not a very spiritual mortal. Sure, he'd been to places that could make even the hardiest of men, beastfolk, and mer go insane. He didn't even want to remind himself right now of the atrocities and abominations he'd seen in Apocrypha not too many moons ago.<p>

He was still having nightmares.

Gods, Daedra, Immortals. Honestly, Chalur liked to think there were always explanations for things, even if said explanations were a bit farfetched to begin with.

Like today for instance.

After a year off in Solstheim, dealing with more ancient secret that really should have stayed secret, he'd finally returned to Skyrim; home. While it wasn't his true home, at least not by race, Skyrim had become something of a jewel in Chalur's life despite all that had happened these many years. Adventurer by heart, there were still so many secrets and legends left undiscovered by the Dragonborn himself. He needed to keep moving. He needed to learn more!

...he needed to rest.

At least, that's what he was thinking about as he walked into Riverwood a few minutes ago to visit the Riverwood Trader in the wee hours of the morning so, only for his r&r to be torn away by the roar of a dragon overhead.

Needless to say it seemed to Dragonborn was needed again.

In no time, the dragon was slain.

Its disembodied head fell to the ground with a hard 'thud', sounding the stop to Riverwoods destruction. Chalur himself landed a few paces away, wincing slightly at the overuse of his wounded right leg. He breathed slowly to ease the pain before standing to his full height and turning his masked face to the dragons now dead body. Blood spurted from the neck as it slowly slumped to the ground in defeat. It took only a second before the majestic glow of the defeated dragons soul slowly began to ascend from the body. In that span of a few seconds, every nerve in Chalur's body seemed to tense up, almost instinctively. Waiting. Watching. Praying to whatever Divine existed that he wouldn't hear that same cursed voice and disgusting laugh he always heard in Solstheim.

Every time he killed a dragon...

Every moment he thought he had been victorious...

Just as soon as the tenseness had come, it vanished as the bright glow of the soul transferred within himself, a sense of relief coming with it. His first dragon kill since his time in Solstheim and he never felt better. Opening his eyes, he found the site of the giant bones of the dragon comforting despite himself, even if the pool of blood still lay where the skull now was.

Silently he hoped he wouldn't have to help clean that up.

Even as Nords and others alike began to realize what had just happened, Chalur swiftly and silently latched his beloved battleaxe 'Bane' onto the carrying device set into his armored back. Feeling the familiar weight of the axe, Chalur couldn't help but feel a hint of bitterness at having to use this weapon instead of his usual weapon-of-choice. Shaking his head of these thoughts, he instead found himself being overrun with cheers and familiar faces congratulating him for their saving.

"As usual, stoppin any dragon he can!"

"Oh thank the Divines you were here!"

"I remember when he came into the town years ago!"

"You know, I used to be an adventurer like you..."

"All hail the Dragonborn!"

Having no way to show his discomfort through his mask, Chalur could only nod at the cheers and prays shouted at him in close proximity, trying desperately to walk and get out of the town without hurting anyone. Thankfully through some divine or spiritual intervention, the crowd began to disperse as a booming voice shouted, "Step aside you milk drinkers! Let 'em have his space!"

Chalur had never been more glad to see Ralof again.

The Stormcloak soldier made his way through the already dwindling crowd, his face plastered with a grateful smile, yet his eyes glinting with some concern though Chalur knew the Nord was too proud to voice it. No doubt he noticed the new burnt marks and chipped armor already on Chalur's armor. Instead, the Nord nodded with gratitude before sticking out his hand, Chalur instinctively grabbing with his gloved hand and shaking firmly.

"It's been a while Chalur. A year too long. I- Skyrim, thought you'd never return again." Ralof said with a concern still etched in his eyes. Though the two rarely kept in touch due to the war and Chalur's adventures, one could say they had gained a respect for each other as well as a silent friendship between one another.

And just like that, Chalur Draflfran was reminded of the his nightmare in Solstheim.

Ralof must have noticed as Chalur's hand began to squeeze tighter around his own, the man swearing he was going to break it. Chalur quickly retracted his hand and began to compose himself, sweeping the unwanted memories of the past year back for another time so he could speak. He had to get home now. Sleep. At the most, he should be back there by marrows sunrise.

That was when he heard his name again.

"Chalur? As in...Chalur Dralfran?" A quiet voice asked behind him.

Mentally steeling himself, Chalur's armor gave a groan of protest as he turned around to meet the awed gaze of the same Nord he had saved not just a few moments ago. Now that he got a better look at him, he finally noticed how scrawny and small this one was compared to Ralof and the other Nords in Riverwood. Even with the man still bleeding heavily from the large wooden splinter in it(He'd need to get this man some help quickly) he still seemed to appear all but dumbstruck as he seemed to look at Chalur in a new light.

"...Yes. That would be me." Chalur confirmed. He hadn't realized till now how hoarse and /old/ his voice sounded than from years prior.

Just another thing he lost in Solstheim.

"I...blast this leg! I have a letter for you. Great importance apparently."

Confused, Chalur took the message from the messengers outstretched hand, noting the wolf print seal on it. Both excitement and cold fear began to grip at his heart at the seal, trying desperately to compose himself once more before asking in a shaky voice, hoping he was wrong.

"...just who is this from?"

The Nord messenger raised a brow now, shaking out of his stupor before pulling out a much smaller piece of parchment and unfolding it. He read it over, his face showing disbelief before looking back at Chalur.

"Says here...it's from your wife.

And just like that, the slayer of Alduin,

killer of Vampires,

destroyer of numerous ancient threats and Dragonborn extraordinaire,

Was filled with nothing more than dread and despair.

* * *

><p>And that's that. As many of you should guess, this is simply just a test right now to see if my mind can get hooked on writing stories again.<p>

Tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is highly recommended and welcomed. Praise is also. Flaming though, well, you don't wanna know what I do to flames….(Nah just kidding).

**~ReverseSceptile**


	2. Chapter 2

Homebound Chapter 2

A/N: Nothing important to say, so have a new chapter!

**copperheart**:Thank you very much for the review. I'll admit, i always felt my writing style was lacking in more ways than one. It's always good to know people like my writing. Expect longer and better chapters.

Disclaimer: Bethesda Game Studios and Bethesda Software...there happy?

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 2: The Edge<strong>**  
><span>**

_**"FUS! RO DAH!"**_

The wind swirled with the booming of the Thu'um, its power and righteous fury slamming into the surprised women. The snow kicked up as she fell to her knees, both in pain and in resistance, as she tried to keep herself from being thrown off the high peak of the mountain top. With only the ringing of her eardrums, the mage looked up in time to see the giant beast pounce upon her, its blood red eyes shining with nothing more than monstrous savagery. Thinking quickly, as well as ignoring her burning legs, the mage dove forward as the monsters has snapped shut where she once was. Tucking herself in and using her smaller, lither form, she rolled underneath the monstrosity as the snow storm began to pick up which caused her to slightly loose balance as she tried to stand. Now behind it, the women quickly though clumsily attempted to put distance between her and the beast, the deep snow atop the mountains peak making it hard for her to traverse through it.

Fear began to take hold as the angry roar of the monster signaled its growing frustration, making this an even more suicidal plan than before. Acting fast, with both her palms together, arcs of powerful electric energy began shoot out as a sphere of pure electricity formed between them. Turning around just in time, the mages' fear became realized as the beast caught site of her and her magically product, roaring with primal anger and red fury. Its thick armored body twisted around with a grace seen rarely amongst its kind before barreling towards the frightful mage, its intentions clear within its murderous look. The mage put her palms out in desperation, hoping the unfinished electrical ball would at least scare the beast and give her time. She shot the ball of electrical power towards it, the beasts' eyes widening with realization as the sphere made contact with its body and produced a cloud of powerful lightning. The flash temporarily blinded her, the snow making it even harder to see if her work had done what it was supposed to do.

The roar of fury told her otherwise.

Not even the blinding white snow nor the torrent of icy winds could hide the terrified cry that resonated from the women's throat as the beast once again made an attempt at her life, lunging forward with all its impressive bulk and size, every intent on ripping her apart limb from limb. Whether by luck or misfortune, the women had no time to register her sudden loss of footing and gravity taking hold of her.

The freezing snow hid many things, and gods forbid, could she hope to trip over a rock beneath it.

Whatever the case was, falling saved her life once more as the beast miscalculated and suddenly found itself missing its target and heading straight for the edge of the mountain. A cry of irritation was all it was able to voice before it fell off the mountain, the cold, heartless abyss below taking prisoner another living soul as it had always done.

The fury of wind and snow was all the women saw as she stayed laid out atop the snowy peak of the mountain, utter awe and fear still effecting her thoughts. She could hardly remember why she was even up here, least of all why she was fighting against the thing she feared most of all. It all seemed too surreal for her, even as she slowly sat up to take in what had just happened. The rush of adrenaline from her fight began to slow down, giving back the feeling of cold that she had ignored the moment the beast attacked her. She hadn't even realized how cold it was until now.

[i]I've got to get down.[/i] she thought as logic returned to her brain finally. Against the aching of her legs and drowsiness of the spell she had failed to perform, she slowly but surely made her way to her feat, tightening the cloak that surrounded her body in an attempt to stay warmer.

That is, until she heard the unmistakable sound of giant wing beats.

Confused, she instantly turned to where she thought she heard them. Only snow and cold blackness filled her vision, forcing her squint her sapphire blue eyes towards the direction she thought she heard the wings.

**"Foolish mortal. Your demise will be slow and painful."**

There was no mistaking the voice she had just heard. Even as cold fear gripped her heart, some unseen being forced her to slowly turn to where the voice was coming from behind her, eyes widening with disbelief.

Scales as black as his twisted heart, eyes as red as sea of blood he had wrought, and horns as wicked as his power and strength he possessed. There was no mistaking the great dragon that was before her.

Alduin the World Eater

He floated there, his cold state never leaving her form even as she slowly began to back away. She had come so close. So close to living to see another day. So close to facing her demons and making herself a better mage.

All of it for nothing.

Alduin reared back his head, his eyes betraying his malicious glee at the sight of his enemies fear. Power began to swell inside him as he tapped into ancient magic lost in time, words beginning to form in his mind as he prepared her demise. The mage could do nothing but shut her eyes and pray to the Divines for mercy.

The Thu'um was shouted.

One word was all she heard before she knew only darkness.

**"Sofie!"**

* * *

><p>"Sofie! Wake up!"<p>

Every instinct in her body told her to remain still, play dead, or otherwise cowardly try and stay where she was. Forgetting where she was or how she got here, her breathing quickened in panic. The voice, though loud, was still unrecognizable to her. Maybe should could play it off as being in a  
>deep sle-<p>

"Sofie if you do not get out of bed this instant, you'll be joining the Companions sooner than you think."

And just like that, fearful sapphire blue eyes snapped open and met irritated hazel. The two female Nords stared at one another of what seemed like hours, the battle of wills eminent in their gazes. One trying desperately to hide her nightmarish fear and pain, the other hardened and looking for a reason to be angry. One could only imagine how strong each gaze was, both in power and emotion.

Until the hazel eyes of Aela softened towards her adopted daughter.

Two years ago Aela, or as she was known back then, 'Aela the Huntress', would not have known what to do in a situation like this. As a member of the Companions, a group known for having some of the best fighters in all of Skyrim, her life had been nothing more than living the true Nord life. Eating, drinking, fighting to her hearts content, even her little hunting trips with the rest of The Circle were always something to look forward to. She and Skjor had always been a couple ever since their joining of The Circle, the two being more than a match for one another. Being a member of the Companions was a challenge itself with her day to day schedule, but one she felt proud to do in the name of the True Nord.

That was, until the events that transpired many years ago rocked her world.

Of course, that was a tale she'd rather not remember right now, for what the small girl cowering beneath her wool blankets needed was not a warrior,

but a mother.

"Nightmares again?" She asked as her voice softened to a low whisper. Tears threatened to break through the small girls eyes, giving all the information Aela needed in order to help her.

Sighing, she lightly took a seat at the edge of the bed, her gaze never leaving the girl as she took in her appearance.

Two years ago, the girl before her had been nothing more than a barely fed orphan on the streets who sold flowers to pay for food. Her life, her education, forming bonds of friendship; all being cut short thanks to the pitiful Civil War that plagued Skyrim today. Ragged and dirty, yet kind and gentle, Sofie had been a jewel to the many residence housed within the great walls of Windhelm. Of course, none had ever attempted to get to know her, all simply giving her pity and sympathy while they bought her flowers. So, Sofie's life had continued as such, until the faithful day when she bumped into the right person at the right time and her life had changed for the better.

A couple years later, she was still the same sweet, gently girl she was before, albeit now twelve years old and living under a roof with food, clothes, and her own room.

Of course, the best thing was she had a mother again.

In a moment of clarity, Aela realized how lucky the girl was before her, and how truly blessed she was to have such a relationship with her. Without hesitation, the arms she had used so many times to break animal necks and kill thieves, wrapped around the bundled up child with all the motherly love she could muster. Her hands once rough with wear and scars, slowly caressed the child's hair as she attempted to calm the girls growing fear of being in trouble.

That's all Sofie wanted.

Leaned against her new mother, Sofie let out a soft sigh of content, her fear slowly ebbing away with each soft stroke from her mother's hand. Both of them, mother and daughter, remained in this position for what seemed like hours to the poor girl. Aela however, knew better, and stopped her stroking long enough for her to give her daughter one last hug before pulling away, her eyes going for soft to hard in an instant.

"Well, maybe next time you'll remember to go to sleep !earlier! instead of reading your silly book late at night hm?" she suggested, earning an embarrassed blush from Sofie. The girls eyes swept over to her nearby nightstand where sat her most beloved possession amongst other things. A tome titled, 'Dragon Names of History'. She still didn't know how the book came into her possession years ago, or how her fat- The Dragonborn even found it. All she knew is that it was as old as the dragons themselves.

Aela caught the look, giving a knowing smile before tussling the child hair around. Sofie attempted to prevent her mother from messing with the long, dirty brown strands that she called hair, only succeeding in eliciting a soft chuckle from Aela. Sofie herself couldn't help but giggle in response, watching as the former Huntress finally stood up from her spot and looked down upon her once again.

"You still have a lot to learn, little pup. I expected better from you of all children." Aela chided as she attempted to scold her only daughter. Of course, as usual, Sofie saw right through the fake disappointment and scowl, though she'd never tell her mother that.

"Sorry mama." she apologized, changing her tone to one of child-like sadness.

"I would hope so. Now get dressed and come down so you can help me make breakfast. "Aela ordered, though Sofie could tell from the mischief smile that it was anything but. She gave her daughter one last smile before turning and heading down the ladder stairs, leaving Sofie to her own device.

Happiness rejuvenated once again, Sofie couldn't help but jump out of bed with all the energy a twelve year old could muster. Smiled wider as her bare feet touched clean wooden floors once again, another reason why she was glad to have a family again. She briskly walked over towards her nearby wardrobe and quickly opened it to reveal bundles of dresses and other assortment of winter themes clothes. The young girl eyed her clothes with a keen eye, wondering what would be best for today.

_Perhaps the yellow dress today, the one with the long green skirt._

_No...today doesn't feel like a yellow kind of day._

_Oh! Of course! Blue! With the red dress!_

Her mind made up, and in no time, Sofie happily skipped down the stairs and into the main living area. A large table with four chairs dominated the middle of the room, not that it took up room anyways. Sofie always admired how big her home was, from the large tower that was built into the right of the home to house magical artifacts and alchemical research (of course, he favorite place in the house), to the /giant/ storage room in the back.

She pitied many children who could not have such a thing, Ael-...no..._Mama_ always telling her to always be grateful for what she had. Of course, she knew the only reason she had such a big home anyways was because of pap-

And just like that, Sofie's good mood was ruined.

Tears threatened to break out as the thought of her so called 'Papa' came into mind.

Two years.

Two years he had been gone, and to make matters worse, right as she and Mama moved into the home. Mama always told her that he was busy with something in another land, telling her not to worry about her adopted father.

That was a year ago.

Now?

Now Sofie's childish but observant blue eyes could see right through her mother's with ease, noting how the women always either try to steer clear of the subject or just tell her the same thing she always said.

_"He'll be back soon. Have faith."_

These days however, even Sofie could see the doubt her mother had when she said it, knowing even the wife of the infamous 'Dragonborn' was losing faith in her husband's return.

That just made Sofie hate him even more than she already did.

"Breakfast isn't going to be made with that sort of look, is it?"

Broken out of her stupor, Sofie looked to her mother, noticing how the women had a slight smirk to her. Even then, Sofie could undoubtedly see the stress and tiredness in her eyes. Aela was never good at keeping things to herself, as being a Companion meant being a true warrior and expression one's self every day. She hid it well enough for random passerby's not to notice, but Sofie was better than that.

"s-Sorry Mama." Sofie conceded, pushing her hatred for her so called 'father' away and trying to go back to being happy once again. While the hatred would never go away, it seemed to just form an itch in the back of her mind instead.

She wasn't fooling anyone.

"...alright then. Let's get started then." Aela finally said, eyeing her daughter once more before turning and heading back to the kitchen, Sofie not too far behind. The little girl knew she'd hear about this later, and probably wasn't looking forward to it, but even she could tell her mother was trying desperately to stay in control of herself. The itch grew worse in Sofie's mind, but like before remained quiet about it.

"Alright little pup. What do you want to make first?" Aela asked. Sofie's eyes brightened at this, her initial grumpiness gone as her eyes looked towards her mothers.

Aela wasn't kidding.

"Sweet rolls!" Sofie shouted without missing a beat, biting back the giddiness that was trying to burst out of her huge smile. Her mother almost always made breakfast before Sofie woke up, meaning the girl would have to eat whatever 'food' the former Huntress made.

Her mother wasn't bad at cooking...

not too bad...

...ok so maybe her mama wasn't really cut out of cooking and 'domesticated' work like most mothers were, but she tried. Maybe that's what made the meal bearable. That fact that her mother always put her heart into the food she prepared for her.

It was, however, rare moments like this where Sofie was head chef and could decide what to be made(while showing off her potent cooking skills) and what couldn't that made this kitchen her second favorite place in the world.

She was going to milk this as long as possible.

Wincing, Aela turned to the baker over on the far left wall, looking at it with a sigh of defeat before saying, "I thought you might say that."

Not the least surprised, Sofie walked over to it and took a peak, noting the already battered, floured, and rolled up pieces of dough already baking in the oven.

Her mother knew her too well.

"Good. Now! My assisting chef! It is time we make ourselves some sweet rooooo..." Sofie began, only to catch herself.

Her mother had always taught her that, despite not being the best tasting, vegetables and other greens were important to keep a healthy body.

Especially if Sofie wanted to be a great Mage when she grew up."...vegetable stew? Yeah? Vegetable stew!" she finished, smiling triumphantly at her mother's surprised look.

A surprised look that turned into a proud smirk.

Yep, Aela knew the game she was playing at, but was still happy her daughter was learning.

"I'll grab the pot and water then." she stated before turning towards nearest hanging rack, leaving Sofie to do the dirty work.

"Aww...curse you assistant chef." she whined, but skipped anyways towards the nearby shelf that housed most of the green foods. Unlike most homes, the shelves that housed food items were enchanted to keep any edible item eatable longer than usual. How, Sofie had no clue, but knew even before he mother told her that her father had done that for them.

At least he'd done something right.

Again, sliding those thoughts away, Sofie took a nearby chair and struggled it over to the shelf, knowing the vegetable were on the top where her mother always placed them.

After figuring out who was getting rid of their vegetables before each dinner night, Aela made it clear she was not in the mood for such games.

Never stopped Sofie anyways.

Grabbing one big cabbage, three leeks, two tomatoes, and two potatoes, Sofie's grin began to fade at the thought of eating the stew. While simple and easy to make, even for her own mother, having them with sweatrolls just didn't seem very appetizing.

Anything to make her mother happy.

With the ingredients on the table, Sofie looked around to notice her mother gone, deducing she was probably out to get water from the nearby well. They'd been running low on clean water in the storage room for a while, what with mothers stress and father-

_"Nope!"_ Sofie proclaimed in her mind, banishing those thoughts before they could even make the itch bigger.

Now all she had to do was find that knife...

* * *

><p>"Morning Rayya."<p>

"Ah! And a good morning to you too mistress."

Aela gave a warm smile to her Housecarl, Rayya, noting how early it was for the Redguard to be out and about. Then again, with the pickaxe in hand, she could only guess that was getting an early start in gathering some iron. Their supplies of iron nails was becoming scarce these days...

"Fine day is it not?" Rayya commented, walking past Aela to head over to the nearest iron ore vain.

Aela wanted to say yes. She wanted to say how beautiful the sun looked as it began to rise from below to mountain tops, or how the sky made the lake below look to surreal with its vibrant orange glow,

but then she'd be lying.

"...yes.." Aela finally answered, eyes downcast and she briskly walked to the small well near the left side of the road. She knew, without even looking, Rayya was giving her a worried look right now, maybe even ask her what was wrong.

She didn't want that now.

She wanted to be alone...

No...

She just wanted to see her Chalur again.

Her body froze right in front of the well, a broken heart aching with guilt and tempered anger. These emotions, emotions she had felt not too long ago, threatened to break free as that stupid memory began to play in her head again.

_"What...what do you mean dead?"_

_"I know this is hard for you to hear lady, but the message came from Solstheim not a few days ago."_

_"I get that, you blubbering fool! I mean HOW!? How is Chalur dead!?"_

_Tears, feelings of sadness she hadn't felt since she was a small girl from her mother's death began to seize at her heartstrings._

_Not Chalur..._

_Anything but him..._

_"W-w-well I mean, it says h-he went into these weird ruins there and...well...only his axe came out." The messenger stammered, clearly not used to such an angry retort, especially from a women._

_Aela remained silent, her eyes burning with dread and pain. An uncomfortable silence hung over the two, growing even worse as Aela pain stricken face inches forward before coming mere inches from the messengers. The young lad would have gladly reveled at her beauty if not for the fact that she looked like she wanted to murder him._

_"He's not dead." came from her lips, almost in a whisper._

_"ma'am...I-I-I-I'm sorry, b-b-but the mess-message clearly states..."_

_"HE'S NOT DEAD!" She roared, clearly mimicking the roaring a dragon perfectly in the messengers' eyes. Letter ripped to shreds, the man only had a second to process this before the wooden door slammed onto his face._

"Not dead. Not dead. Not dead."

She hadn't realized she was kneeling on the ground before the well, her arms around herself almost protectively. Her nice forest green dress seemed smothered with dirt, grass, and the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. She must have looked crazy.

She couldn't let people see herself like this. She couldn't let the girl see the broken women who silently wept every night, nor the women who took her frustration and pain out on others.

Especially not her Sophie.

_Clunk-clunk-clunk_

Even in her fit of sadness, her experienced hearing picked up the heavy footfalls of some kind of heavy armor. As quickly as her tears had come, they were gone as her body suddenly tensed with adrenaline. From what she could tell, the footsteps were coming from the roof behind her, and judging from them, they were slow yet careful.

Thief?

Aela couldn't be sure without turning, which in turn would allow the assailant to know she knew they were there. She had to play her cards right, maybe use the bucket as a weapon. She had to-

"Aela?"

No amount of training could ever prepare Aela for the voice that she had heard behind her. Low, deep, but a hint of stress and pain, yet there was no mistaking it.

"Chalur?" she asked, and even before she knew what she was doing, her body willed itself to turn around slowly.

_No..._

She sucked in a breath of air, almost as if his presence was amounted to that of a god.

He might as well be.

What was once beautifully polished Ebony heavy armor now was all but dulled and scarred. Even his Dragon Priest mask, one that was made in times of ancient, looked worse for wear with grim and singed parts adorning it. She could see cracks and dents with her trained eye, wincing as she spied a deep dent on the left side of his chest plate, the cracks around it looking about to break apart. Whatever had hit there, it had been close to killing him.

Dead. Chalur was supposed to be dead.

Suddenly reality began to return to Aela's mind.

"Y-y-you're..supposed to be d-" she couldn't finish, not before slamming into the armored form of her husband.

Years ago Aela was known for her patience and calculating mindset while fighting and hunting. She was awed by her peers and shield-brothers alike for her perseverance towards what she did and how she did it. By the Divines, she was the poster-child for the Companions thanks not only to her skills, but to her overall beauty that Nord men couldn't stop howling about. Nothing could crack her. She was invincible to the dangers of the world.

Chalur couldn't help but feel pity for the women who stood before him, her fists meeting his armor with wild, pent up rage. He had to hand it to her. Even in an almost full set of Ebony armor, each hit hurt worse than the other. Her screams echoed in his eardrums, despite his lack of actual ears, and he had to bite back his natural instinct to console and hug her.

She needed this.

He needed this.

This had been coming for a long time.

He didn't as much as stagger from the blows as he mentally winced at each one with guilt. To him, each hit represented the days gone by when she would worry and pray for him, hoping to any deity that he would return from his voyage across the sea. Fueled by nothing more than disappointment and pain.

She could probably go for weeks and she wouldn't be done hitting him.

So he kept his stance and let her go.

She needed this.

"THEY SAID YOU WERE DEAD!"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU EVEN SEND A GODS FORSAKEN LETTER!?"

"I HATE YOU!"

She would have kept going, kept on releasing ever last ounce of rage she had pent up in her mind. She deserved this. She needed this.

She never accounted for him to actually move.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chalur's armored hand lifted up as her beatings kept up. Her mind was a millions miles away, but even she glared dangerously at it, dared him to hug her. To stop her. She dared him.

"Aela..."

It happened so quickly, so swiftly, as if planned by the gods themselves.

His hand reached up.

His mask fell to the ground.

Those eyes instantly froze her.

What stood before her was not the same face of the man she married almost three years ago. No. The man whose eyes shown with glints of mischief and an adventurous glow were gone. Instead, what stood before her was shell of the former argonian, his once onyx black scales now stained with the gray of stress and age. The scarlet streaks that adorned his face now seemed to have dulled, almost as if they were disappearing.

Two years ago Aela remembered how Chalur's face seemed ready to burst with a smile or song of some kind. Always humming. Always happy. He could never hide his natural curiosity from her, and everywhere he went, it would always show even with the mask on, his reptilian eyes would glint with the same fire that burned at his core.

No more did she see it, and yet….

It was still Chalur Dralfran.

"Why…why did yo-"

Again, for the second time in these precious few moments, Aela was interrupted. Though not by the hoarse words of her name, nor the soft feel of his gloved hands upon her cheek,

but by his scaly, yet loving lips meeting hers.

Every self-respecting Nord knew how rare it was for a human to be intimate with a species of the beast-folk. In fact, it was practically unheard of in the land of Skyrim for one of its own kin to find love in the likes of them, least of all a slave race like the Argonians;

Though an infamous tome of lust called to question that notion.

No. For Aela however, no one's opinion mattered. Not the Nords. Not her Housecarl, who was standing nearby without the couple knowing. Not even the ghost of her long dead shield-brothers could deter Aela from the blissful moment, a moment in which, she had been waiting for so long to have. So, she did the only sensible thing a women with so much raw emotion would do.

She kissed back.

For what felt like hours to the two, they never moved from the spot they were locked in, shutting out the world around them and all sounds to accompany it. Even in that small timeframe their lips were locked together, the two could easily feel pent up stress from one another begin to subside as they allowed their love to consume them once more.

For Aela, all the concern and anger became dull upon the her armorer lovers embrace, trying and failing to hide back the tears now streaming down her cheeks.

For Chalur however, relief was the one feeling that was dominant within his fragile mind. To see her again, the women who had become something more all those years ago, the same women who had helped pull him through a desperate time in his life and renew who he had once been, was probably the most comforting thing he'd felt in two whole years.

Nothing could compare. Nothing could ruin this moment for the both of them.

"Mama?"

And just like that, for possibly the second and (not)last time today,

Chalur was filled with nothing more than dread and despair.

* * *

><p>I can't promise I'll get a new chapter out every week or so, but this time I won't leave you guys hanging. I'm actually interested in where this idea is going to take me and my characters. Constructive criticism and reviews are loved. Flaming is frowned upon.<p>

~ReverseSceptile


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm actually quite sad this took so long. Sorry for those who've been waiting. We all of some kind of hectic lifestyle to deal with. Also, as a good friend of mine brought it up recently, the book Sofie was reading actually exists. Called "Atlas of Dragons". Subject to change.**

**For those new to the story, I'm not dead, just not in the zone. Not too worry. With school ending and summer along the way, I'll have more free time to write…..if I can stop my addiction for gaming.**

**Seriously,**

**I need help:(**

**Now please enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Use your imagination for this one. Mine hurts too much.**

**Chapter 3: The Consequences**

"Sofie…come out.."

Aela was only met with silence, and if she was hearing correctly, tiny sniffles, from behind the locked doors to the Enchantment Tower. It was possibly Sofies' favorite place to go when she was bored.

Even more so when she was upset.

Gods. Why did this happen now, of all times?

It was bad enough that she was having to deal with the emotions she herself was feeling from Chalur's return. While not unwanted in any way, the surprise and depth of it really struck Aela where it hurt most. Thankfully Chalur had enough sense to leave the two to their own devices when Sofie ran off without a word at discovering what was going on outside, though she couldn't help but feel concern for what she saw in his eyes when he left.

Unfathomable amounts of pain.

She'd have a talk with him about that later it seemed.

"Sofie please…"

"…*sniff*...No. Not with **him** still here."

Aela's brows rose in astonishment at the amount of venom directed towards Chalur. From his own adopted daughter.

Then again, Aela felt she should've been keeping a closer eye on Sofie. The women bit her lip, realizing her one mistake these past two years. It all made sense to her now.

She'd been so caught up in her own grief, she neglected to comfort her own child. Hope shattered. Love turned to resentment. Kindness turned sour.

All her fault.

"…Sofie. Chalur's not with me right now. Even if he was…you wouldn't have a choice young lady." Aela spoke up, steeling her nerves once more. If being soft and kind to her was getting her nowhere, than Aela knew she had no choice but to be assertive.

Again, she was met with her daughter's soft sniffles, however, she could also hear the rustling of bed sheets and tiny footsteps growing closer to the door. Aela kept her relieved sigh to herself, brushing her unruly brown hair from her face as she heard the click of the wooden doors lock. Ever so slowly, the door opened to reveal what Aela feared worst.

Sofie's face riddled with tears and obvious anger.

"I don't wanna see him." Sofie stated before Aela could ask, her expression one of controlled fury as her eyes searched around for any sign of the onyx scaled lizard. Noticing his lack of presence, her eyes met Aela's uncertain ones, and starred back with all the anger and confusion a child could muster. Aela, being the women she was, shook herself of her uncertainty and prepared for the worst.

"Sofie whether you like it or not, he's back, and he's staying. Don't forget who built this place for us young lady." Aela retorted, reigning victorious as Sofie's eyes widened in realization.

How had she forgotten that?

"It…..that's not….It's not fair!" Sofie cried out, angry at her adopted mother for taking her so called 'fathers' side. How could she? Two and a half years of being gone and Aela still missed him? It made no sense.

"Fair? Stop acting like a spoiled brat! Why can't you be happy your **father's** back?" Aela asked, frustration eminent in her tone. Of course she could understand how angry Sofie was at Chalur. She herself was positively furious at him, so much so that the moment those two were alone, she was going to get to the bottom of why he hadn't given them even a clue of his whereabouts.

That would come later.

"Because! A father…a **real** father wouldn't leave without….*sniff*…without…saying goodbye…" Sofie answered, her voice becoming nothing more than a whisper as she finished her sentence. Her hardened glare seemed to soften into an almost nostalgic sadness, as if saying those words were reminding Sofie of some kind of bad memo-

Oh.

Though slow at first, Aela's expression turned into shock as she was finally able to figure it out part of the reason Sophie was so distressed by this.

Years ago, before the second coming of dragons and Chalur's victory, Sophie had once had parents. From what Aela remembered, both were respected Nords, her father so much so for involvement in the civil war still going on at the time. A Stormcloak, if Aela remembered correctly. From what Chalur said, the man left Sofie one day to fight in an important battle.

She didn't have to wonder what happened to him.

Now she understood.

"Baby….don't do this to yourself. He'd never leave like that again."

Hallow.

Her words sounded hallow, even more so to Sofie. The little girl looked down, Aela words passing right through her. It seemed nothing she said Sofie was going to take to heart, the child too engrossed in her own pain and anger.

_"This is better left for another time," _Aela thought with sadness. She had hoped to bring some sort of relief to the girls' worries, but even then, Aela herself wasn't so certain **she** believed her own words. It was going to take a lot of time and effort, not only from them but from Chalur himself, to rekindle their family love once more. At least that was something Aela was ready to commit to.

She just hoped Sofie was too.

Two beings stood stone still, neither blinking,

Reptilian eyes met the hallow eyes of Nahkriin,

Pain and regret, matched by the timeless stare of vengeance

In the end, Chalur simply gave a sigh as he placed the mask back upon the mannequin, having lost his apparent stare down with the mask. Again. Backing away, the onyx colored Argonian's intense glare seemed to become transfixed by the armor that he had worn for so long.

Even after all these years, the mask of Nahkriin remained untouched and ageless, not a single scratch or mark on it no matter how many times he had been hit there.

Whomever had created such a thing had to have been a very powerful enchanter.

Chalur's eyes trailed down to the ebony suit of armor, silently taking in all the damage that had been done to the piece of armor. He could see every detailed scratch and dent that seemed immeasurable on it, his mind faltering to each one and how he got them;

Being bashed by dragon's tail,

Surprise attacked by four bandit highwaymen,

Not paying attention when a tree was falling towards him,

That damn Forsworn mage getting a lucky shot with her flame,

Miraak's sword stabbing straight through and almost kil-

His train of thought broken, Chalur's eyes widened considerably as his gaze fell on the gaping hole on his left breastplate. As many people knew, Ebony was considered one of the hardest substances of this age, falling under many impossible things such as dragonbone and daedric. To puncture through ebony armor, well, it was pretty much unheard of, especially with the amount of protective enchantments Chalur himself put into such a piece. The hole, while only about a few inches in diameter, seemed to have cut straight through both armor and chainmail underneath. If he looked closely, he could see the hole was caked with dry blood….

..His blood.

As if on instinct, Chalur instantly lifted his shirt and brought his hand close to his heart. His claws touching scaled skin at first, memories began to resurface as he brought them closer, feeling rough patches of burnt scale and soft flesh underneath. Chalur's breath became ragged as his mind began to lose itself, his world spinning into the dark colors of a sickly green and wretched black. He could have sworn he was hearing that...that…_infernal_ laugh of his-

[Cue Flashback]

-_"Hahaha! Is that the best you have Dragonborn?" came his taunting tone, the mask making it hard to tell if he was serious or simply toying with him. Chalur didn't know. He didn't care._

_He was going to rip those vocal cords if it was the last thing he did._

_Metal crashed against metal, Miraak's calculated strikes matching Chalur's wildly aggressive blows. It was almost ironic how the world around them seemed to grow even brighter with intensity as the two impossibly powerful beings fought blow for blow, hit for hit. No one Dragonborn seemed to be getting the upper hand,_

_Or so most would think._

_In reality, this had been the second time Miraak had used the __**damn**__ shout to kill and take the life-force of another dragon; healing him to his full capacity in the process. Chalurs' breaths becoming slow and painful, there wasn't even a word for what he was feeling as he tried desperately to hang onto conscious. The staggering effects of Miraak's might, coupled with the fact that Chalur himself hadn't had a good rest in __**weeks**__, was taking its toll on him._

_"I grow weary of your power, Dragonborn. Why do you hold back? Or perhaps….this is the true extent of your power!?" Miraak taunted once more as he deftly dodged Chalur's axe as it slammed where he once was. Fury seemed to be ebbing its way into Chalur's mind since the beginning of the fight, the fire being fueled by Miraaks tricks and taunts. The Argonian could feel sanity slipping the longer he fought in Apocrypha, his already exhausted mind weakened from too much time in the plane of Oblivion._

_He needed to finish this quickly if he was to survive._

_Holding onto his sanity for a bit longer, Chalur sprinted forward as he calculated Miraaks next move before bringing his axe to bear. _

**_"FUS. RO. DAH!"_**

_The shout traveled forward, catching the first Dragonborn off guard and staggering him back. The ringing in his ears, along with trying to keep himself righted broke his concentration for a few seconds, seconds Chalur was using to his fullest. With a roar that defied the gods themselves, Chalur put on another burst of speed before bringing his axe up, his muscles tensing as they prepared to slam down upon the foe with such righteousness._

_If only he'd been a second faster._

_It happened in a flash, and then Chalur froze. The first thing Chalur felt was unimaginable amounts of pain that seemed to course through his entire body. His tired mind was trying hard to understand what had just happened, working in overdrive as Chalur stood stock still from whatever Miraak had done to him. _

_That's when he felt sort of heavy._

_Slowly, ever so slowly, Chalur's gaze fell down to his opponent, widening as he noticed Miraaks outstretched arm towards Chalur. More importantly, the sword that was in his hand._

_Following the length of the twisted blade, his senses ran cold as he finally saw where the blade had struck, or rather, where it had stabbed through._

_"Fate decreed that you had to die so that I can win my freedom."_

_His cruel laugh echoed across the endless sea of forbidden knowledge, the world surrounding Chalur beginning to fade as his life began to ebb away. So cold. So much insanity. His mind couldn't take it any longer._

_"So, the Last falls to the First, and a new era of power will reign upon all of Tamriel. It's a shame you can't be there to witness it. Goodbye, Dragon-…no…goodbye, _

_Chalur Dralfran.-[End Flashback]_

_Chalur….."_

"Chalur?"

If Miraak's voice was that of the cursed daedra themselves, than this one was no better. While smooth and soft, there was an air of concern and power that didn't go unnoticed by Chalur.

That voice could only belong to one person.

Calming himself once more, Chalur turned from the mannequin, the flame from the forge illuminating Aela as she stood a few feet away. Her confused look only grew more worrisome as Chalur remained silent, his intense gaze never leaving her. She'd come down to see what had taken her husband so long, only to find the Argonian standing eerily still, his breaths fast, too fast, and heavy. She'd tried calling him multiple times through the few moments she was there, her cries becoming more desperate than actual calls, and to her sanity, they seemed to be working. Finally, he seemed to have snapped out of whatever spell he was in, much to Aela's relief.

"Aela I…I was just-" Chalur began, only to stop short as he noticed Aela's shocked face.

It was then he noticed that his hand was still over the puncture wound.

Silently cursing himself, Chalur made to lower his shirt and hide the wound once more, only to be stopped by Aela strong grip. Chalur had to do a double take, his mind unable to understand why Aela,s fair skinned hand was holding his back.

"Let me see?"

He knew he didn't have it in him to say a 'no'.

Begrudgingly, Chalur slightly relaxed his hand as Aela lifted it, her stare locked upon his permanent scar. While she herself remained still, Chalur could see the emotions doing battle within her hazel eyes. If he didn't already feel bad before, now his guilt began to weigh down on him.

"How did you get this?"

It took a bit for Chalur to comprehend that she had asked the question, his own mind fighting between outright lying to her (again) or just giving the full truth. It was at this moment that he made the mistake of looking down and meeting her emotional stare, unable to stop himself before the words came pouring out of his mouth.

"Miraak. The…the evil I told you about. He'd been trying to return so he could take over Tamriel after the defeat of the dragons. Killed so many. A few weeks ago, I chased him down into his domain and fought him. I….he….almost killed me." Chalur said, his voice only a whisper, yet Aela could hear it all too clearly.

And she was not happy.

"You…chased…you mean you almost died?!" she asked, her voice rising as she began to comprehend his what he just said. Silently cursing himself, Chalur gave a feeble nod before looking down in embarrassment.

"…almost….yes."

Chalur and Aela remained silent for a moment, albeit a more comfortable one than before. Now that Chalur had finally been able to tell Aela what had been troubling him, she seemed to understand the gravity of his words.

She'll never understand, to this day, what made her believe ignoring this problem was a good idea.

"Well….hopefully he beat some sense into you while you were at it."

Bewildered, Chalur looked up find his wife's face straining a cheeky grin. He knew from experience that a joking Aela was rare, and saved only for those closest to her, those being Sophie and himself. He learned years ago how to strip away all the strict warrior flesh and 'wolfish' pride to find that she had a surprisingly good, if not a bit unkindly sense of humor. He could tell she was trying not to be angry, to keep her emotions in check and see right past the idiotic things Chalur got himself into.

Another quality he had fallen in love with about her.

For the first time in a long time, Chalur's troubled scowl turned into a small genuine smile as he brought his hand up to Aela's back, pushing her ever so closer to him as he said, "Even if he did, it'd be nothing compared to what _you_ can do to me."

If Aela noticed how close she was getting, she didn't show it, opting instead to give her own genuine smile as she slowly brought her hand away from the charred flesh of his heart and brushed it against his broad chest, feeling the familiar scaly skin of her loving companion.

By Argonian standards, Chalur was abnormally tall and broad for his race, who were usually shorter and much leaner in term of build. Even by Nord standards, he stood a good few centimeters taller than most Nords they'd come across along their journey around the land, and that wasn't even counting the armor he usually wore. While usually off putting for someone like Aela, whom valued skill and heart over muscle any day, Chalur had proven years ago that there was more to him than met the eye. Past the scales, frills, and tail, Aela had come to learn that the 'Legendary Dragonborn' was nothing more than an obsessed adventurer.

Literally.

For as long as she'd know him, it seemed he could never get enough of…..well, _moving _around. Generally every hour of every day was spent, at least to Chalur Dralfran's personal life, finding hidden caves, exploring ancient architecture, and fighting against impossible odds. From long dead kings, to the even more terrifying random dragon attack, Aela could see early that there was a pattern to him despite still being an enigma to her and the rest of the Companions. To him, not a single moment was wasted for he always seemed to have _something_ to do, even for the most mundane of tasks such as helping an old mercenary find his family sword, or even locating an item for a friendly merchant. Dry, rinse, and repeat.

That was the Chalur she once knew.

That wasn't the Chalur see saw now, yet even then….

"Still a hopeless romantic as ever." Aela half joked, her tone instantly changing to tease the Argonian. It seemed her hopes were answered, as his small smile morphed into the familiar wide grin she had come to love.

Quite suddenly, the world seemed to give away around them as their gazes locked onto one another, two years of suppressed love and affection seeming to course through both their bodies at the sight of one another. No longer were they Aela and Chalur as they let the world fall apart around them, but simply themselves; an Argonian with his wife. A Nord with her husband. Two lovers whom hadn't seen one another in what seemed like forever.

They were all that mattered in their little world.

Lusting lips met a large onyx snout, the two allowing their love to be finally felt by one another. Years ago, to say a Nordic women actually kissing an Argonion would have been almost unheard of, even by Chalur and Aela(who would have simply laughed at the prospect).

Now?

Now it was the most wonderful sensation either of the two had felt in a long time. For a simple few seconds, all their worries, sorrows, and nightmares seemed to fade in the back of their minds as they let go of reality to connect with one another. It was as if the Nine Divines themselves had willed their reunion to happen, that their love for one another had not wavered these couple years even when both were lost to the harsh world around.

To say the least, life was simply perfect.

.

.

.

.

.

"…Mother?!"

Two widened sets of eyes suddenly opened with alarm, their tender and heartwarming moment shattered as the harsh reality of the real world broke through their world. Aela, all too used to her daughters habits, quickly turned to find her Sofie starring down from the ladder with a look of both shock and disgust. While Chalur looked to Sofie with apprehension, Aela instantly changed into 'Mother Mode'.

"Something you need, _dear?_" Aela asked with a frown, trying her hardest to glare at her daughter with unsuccessful results. If she was trying to get some kind of respectful response from Sofie, she failed in that regard.

"Just….came to tell you the rolls are ready.." she said after a bit of gathering her thoughts, still unable to unsee the terrifying amounts of affection she had just witnessed. Giving Chalur one last look of anger, Sofie slowly disappeared back up the ladder, slamming the trapdoor down upon its hinges. The sound of the angry slam gave way to an awkward silence that hung over the two adults, dispelling any sort of intimate moment between them at the moment.

"….missed you too.."

Aela's eyes widened as she heard the sad whisper of her beloved, breaking from his embrace to stare with remorse into his eyes. She saw the unholy amounts of suffering and insanity that clouded Chalur's sad look, her heart wanting nothing more than to comfort him at this moment of weakness. Unfortunately, like many times, Chalur instantly changed look to one of apology, nuzzling Aela quickly before letting go of her body and asking in a curious voice, "Sweet rolls without me? I'm hurt."

Aela knew full well that this was all a ploy, a sham, Chalur's annoying sense of selflessness that stopped him from voicing his problems to others and instead keeping it to himself. She should snap at him this moment to spill his heart, stop pretending, to let go of his pride and just help her understand what was going through that broken mind of his.

Instead however, she gave the Argonian a cheeky grin before swiftly turning to exit.

"Well, we can't all be stuck eating delicacies around the world now can we? When you decide to stop skulking in your man cave for a bit, try and join us for a breakfast would you?"

Maybe in a more logical world she would have asked the question, but she was too emotionally exhausted to do much of anything right now.

Aela never considered herself unlucky to have the family she had now. Hell, she knew she was the luckiest Nordic women in the world to have such a loving family and loyal friends.

Be married to the Dragonborn himself wasn't half bad either.

She just wished her daughter could say the same thing.

Eyes as blue as the crystal ocean, yet as resentful and dangerous as any stormy body of water, Sofie 'Dralfran' simply glared at her so called 'Father' with no amount of mercy. Not once since the onyx scaled lizard man had come from his den, bid Rayya a warm welcome, and sat down at the breakfast table had Sofie looked anywhere else than Chalur. Chalur, for his part, had remained unyielding to her stare, instead trying to engage both Aela and Sofie in conversations about what had been going on since his departure two and a half years ago. Sofie had remained silent, no matter how many questions he asked, opting instead for simple grunts and strange noises. Aela, too mentally drained, could only keep her attention to Chalur's question for so long before she went back to silently eating her food.

To put it bluntly, he was failing miserably, and Aela couldn't feel anymore sorry for the tired Argonian.

This kept up for around five minutes, Chalur trying desperately to find some way to connect to his family, when a question he asked Sofie piqued Aela's interest.

"You still have the dragon book I gave you though, right?"

The effects were immediate, as Sofie's eyes raised in alarm at the question, her cold stare waning at the thought of what happened earlier this morning. Aela's brows raised as Sofie looked down, failing to hide her blush as Chalur's smile only grew wider at his supposed victory.

"…yeah.." she finally answered, looking away in embarrassment.

Having been given to her as a present when they first adopted her, the "Atlas of Dragons" had been one of Chalur's favorite reads during his adventure. She remembered it was also the same day he revealed to her his identity as an Argonian and not a Nord like she had thought.

It was one of her most cherished memories.

"Good! Hopefully you've kept it in good condition while I was away. It _is _a one of a kind." Chalur said with a pleased tone, not knowing that at that moment, he'd made things far worse than before.

"Yeah…the books been fine. Not that me and mother are important or anything."

The words were said before she even knew what she was even thinking. In that instant, Chalur's victorious smile seemed to slowly fall into a frustrated scowl, his eyes giving off a dangerous glint in them. Aela herself would have scolded Sofie if not for the emotional exhaustion she was feeling at the moment. The look Chalur had, however, seemed to bring chills to her spine as he slowly sat up straighter than before, becoming less jubilant and more intimidating. Sofie remained still, glaring daggers at her father now as if daring him to say something to her, and before Aela could so much as speak, Chalur did first.

"How _dare_ you. You of all people should know how much you and your mother mean to me." Chalur remarked with a cold whisper, barely controlling the surprising amount of fury that was building up for some reason.

"We didn't seem to matter for the past two and a half years, oh fearless _Dragonborn_." Sofie shot back, venom in her tone as she made her distaste known at the title her father carried with her.

Chalur wasn't having it.

"That is different."

"Oh? How so _father_? Please give me the new excuse this time."

"Solstheim isn't as close as you think."

"Nothing a powerful Dragonborn can't solve right. I mean, you're supposed to be all powerful."

"I have limits…."

"Or maybe you just didn't really try hard enough."

"Sofie that's not…"

"Or! Here's a thought! Maybe, you did try, but you didn't really feel like it was worth it. Another land right? No one to keep you tied down or anything right!? You're the freaking Dragonborn! Since when does a family even deserve you?!"

"..Sofie…."

"With no one to keep you back, you could probably flaunt yourself around, claiming to be some deity, maybe even adopt another kid or just stay there forever. Not you liked kids anyways.."

"….."

"And let's just say, you happen to…oh I don't know, become **tempted** to enjoy yourself. Maybe you grew bored of Skyrim, of fighting the same thing, or the Nords around you. Even your family. Say you found a nice lady there, who just so happens to be young, beautiful, and just what the **Dragonborn **wants to pass the time. Wouldn't be the first time you've been disloyal before right?!" Sofie all but screamed, ignoring the fact that the tears she had thought she'd shed were now falling in full force.

For the life of her, she couldn't remember when she began to cry, when her words so quiet with anger became shouts of fury. It was as if something in her snapped the moment she saw that stupid, gods-damned smile on his face the moment he thought she'd forgiven him. Two and a half years may not seem like a lot to him, to this **stupid** lizard that dared call her his daughter, but to Sofie, time was literally with her loved ones everything to her. To see that smile wiped off his face in favor of a simple emotionless frown, it made all these nasty feelings in her churn with victory. She knew by her mother's horrified and hurt look that she was going to pay for this later on in the day, but to Sofie,

she had won.

Chalur remained silent for the longest time, all pretenses of breakfast long gone from everyone's mind as the Argonian tried to comprehend the gravity of their daughters' words. Torn between the rising fury building within him and the depressive remorse churning in his heart, he didn't seem to have enough energy to make any sort of comeback whatsoever.

Thankfully Aela was more of a doer than a thinker.

"Sofie…..your room, now."

Sofie's look of triumph quickly morphed into an outraged look of betrayal, intent on calling out her mother before her eyes met the burning irises that were Aela the Huntress.

"I. Said. **NOW.**" Aela said once more, her very posture more than enough to intimidate the small girl into listening to her. Giving one last death glare to Chalur, slamming her chair back, she stalked towards the wooden stairs and headed to her bedroom. It wasn't until the slamming of a door later that Chalur was finally able to say something, and it was enough to break Aela's heart three times over.

"She's wrong you know. It's me who doesn't deserve you."

For the second time in his life, Chalur Dralfran was glad he couldn't shed tears.

**For some reason, I can't stop feeling like I could have done more for this chapter. Let me know what you guys think. Any kind of criticism is appreciated. I mean, what would an author be without his lovely audience?**


End file.
